Chloe’s pov
I sat on the edge of the wooden bench near the cold hearth, my fingers still wrapped tight around the silver hilt of my hunting dagger. Outside, the rain had stopped, replaced by the quiet, eerie rustle of the pine canopy as the midnight wind swept through the valley.
The iron latch jiggled, and the canvas flap pushed open.
I stood up instantly, my spine snapping rigid, my blade coming up in a defensive arc as I prepared for Fernando to walk back inside.
Instead, a hunched, frail figure shuffled into the dim candlelight.
She wore a heavy mantle of tattered bear hide, her long gray hair matted with dried moss and bone beads that clinked softly with every step. She held a gnarled wooden staff in her left hand, while her right hand carried a small iron bowl filled with steami
